Bound and Broken: An Isekai Adventure Dark Fantasy (Melas Book 1) by V.A. Lewis (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

"You know, it’s not often I find a quality product like you lying on the side of the road, just ready for the taking. And right as we were about to leave Rem too. It was almost like you were given to me directly by the Goddess Herself!"

Julian chuckled, as if he made some kind of funny joke, before turning to the younger slaver.

"It is just as you said; raven black hair and silver eyes; a young and healthy body; all truly exquisite qualities a superior product should possess."

"Of course. I just didn’t want to show her to you until she was awake and moving, so you would be able to properly ascertain the quality of the product."

"Very good. That will surely drive up the base price by at least 20%. There is a market for little boys, but girls tend to be more popular amongst the more… wealthy. And her hair! I’ve heard of some nobles in Xanderia having such dark colored hair. Maybe she has some Elven blood in her? Whatever the case is, this is my first time seeing it." The old man stroked his finely kept beard, grinning. "Yes, we will definitely have to hold a private auction for you."

The younger slaver perked up at that.

"I trust I will be getting a percentage from this sale? I was the one that spotted her lying on the side of the road, after all."

"Of course you will, Marcus. But that’s something to be discussed later. And as for you." Julian turned to face me and smiled. It was not a gentle smile one would direct to a child. It looked more like the smile of a business man who found a new venture: a smile full of greed.

I felt my neck tingle just from looking at those avaricious eyes. Whether it was out of fear, courage, or something else, I finally broke my silence.

"What will you do to me?"

My voice came out as a whisper. Barely audible over the sound of the fireplace crackling in the background, casting haunted shadows over the otherwise pure white tent. The old man— the owner of this slaving company— waved his hand placatingly at me. He spoke reassuringly.

"There’s no need to worry. We’ll find you a good and rich owner to take care of you. Until then, we’ll ensure that nothing bad happens to you, of course. Wouldn’t want to sell a defective product after all."

"Sell me to whom? What are you selling me for?"

I did not know how I got the strength to speak, but I did. I spoke louder, with more energy behind my voice. But it wasn’t a shout. In fact I probably was talking in a normal speaking voice now.

"Child lovers." Julian replied without missing a beat. He met my gaze without hesitation, and spoke casually. "While I personally would never participate in such acts— I prefer the comfort of proper adult women— it is quite a profitable market that I can’t miss out on."

I felt my stomach drop. My legs shook, and I collapsed onto my knees. Of course it’s legal. My mother never mentioned it, but she never would have told me even if I asked. I should have known.

In fact, deep inside of me, I probably knew all along. But it was different from being told— from having it actually happen to me. I looked at the two slavers in the room, and I wished all of this was a dream.

I wished that I was back in Villamcreek, with my mother, just idly passing by our days. Safe. Happy. Or that I was back on Earth, with my family and friends. But I was not. I looked back up and saw the old man get up from his seat. Julian walked over to the fireplace as he calmly tried to assure me.

"There’s no need to worry. As I said, my people will not do anything to you. These buyers would prefer to have their product… untouched." The old man shook his head. He then reached for something in the fireplace and continued. "Of course, to do that, we would have to ensure that people know not to touch you."

I stared at the old man uncomprehendingly as he nodded to the younger slaver. Marcus grabbed me from behind and held me down as Julian pulled out something from the fire.

It was a long, thin, metal rod. On one of its ends was a circular shape, not made of metal, but glowing red. The man spoke nonchalantly as he picked it up and approached me.

"This would also let people know where you came from. That such quality product can only be bought from the Mancis Company. Now hold still, it’s only going to take a minute."

I looked up in horror as I realized what he was doing. I tried to struggle, tried to escape, but the red haired slaver was strong. Stronger than any man I had ever met back on Earth; he held me down as I tried to move. But I could not. I was completely helpless. I had no say in this situation, just like I never had any say in coming to this world.

I looked up and stared at the burning piece of mana crystal. It formed a symbol. A stylized letter M inside of a circle, with chains being unfurled behind its back, like a woman spreading a veil during a dance. But I saw past the logo— into the searing hot mana crystal blazing red. And I saw blood.

A young woman dying, her blood pooling on the road beneath her. Then of a little girl, fighting to protect her friend, and losing her arm in the process. The memory of three strangers, and a broken child in the forest.

But most of all, I remembered my mom,